


A Different Kind of War

by starswholisten



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, this is disgustingly fluffy but moriel deserves it, whoops my hand slipped and this fic happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:25:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswholisten/pseuds/starswholisten
Summary: When Mor starts a tickle war, Azriel will be damned if he lets her win.





	

“Stop that."

Mor smirked up at Azriel from her place on the couch beside him. “Stop this?”

She ran her fingers ever so gently up and down his back, right between his wings, avoiding the membrane but touching sensitive skin all the same. Azriel shifted, pulling his wings tight behind him, and continued to pretend to read his book. Mor giggled at his agitation.

“Does it tickle, Az?"

He grunted, forcing Mor to bite back another laugh. When she continued to stare at him, Azriel raised his head and gave her a warning glance, which was all the more invitation for her. She reached over and grabbed his book, making sure not to lose his place, and set it on the ground as she crawled into his lap. Azriel raised his eyebrows as she leaned down, closing the space between them-

And, while Az was distracted, Mor snaked her arms around him and found that spot again. She began to tickle him mercilessly and his breathing hitched. Mor couldn’t help but burst out laughing, tilting her head all the way back right before their lips would’ve met, at how hard Azriel was trying to keep his composure.

But while she was laughing, Azriel sought his revenge, taking both hands to her waist. She screeched as he began to tickle her there and was caught off guard enough that she pulled her hands away from his back and settled them on top of his in an effort to stop him.

“Az-riel- STOP!” Mor screeched again as she dove sideways from his lap back onto the couch, breathing hard, and he chuckled darkly.

She squinted her eyes up at him from where she lay. “That was evil,” she whined.

“That’s what you get for trying to start a war, sunshine,” he said, crossing his arms. Mor scrambled up, her blonde hair disheveled in that way that drove Azriel out of his mind, and started to smile slowly. It was the look Mor always got when she was planning something mischievous, and Azriel narrowed his eyes at her. She only smirked back.

Az spread his wings in a faux battle stance, his shadows swirling around him. “What are you plotting over there?"

Mor only chuckled. And then, before Azriel could blink, she was poking him in the stomach, the ribs, the sides. “You want a war, Az? You’ll get one,” Mor promised, and Azriel promptly scooped her into his arms, trapping her own arms at her sides. She huffed, a piece of hair flying into her face.

“I’m not starting a war with you, the most competitive person I know. You’ll never accept defeat,” Azriel protested, kissing the piece of hair out of the way of her eyesight.

And it was true; Mor was incredibly competitive, especially when it came to the Illyrians. She’d never allow any of the three of them to beat her in anything if she could help it. Azriel would put up a valiant fight, but they were too well matched in power and wit, so he usually gave into her after long enough. Not that he himself wasn’t competitive - he was. Sadistically so. But when it came to his Morrigan, he’d rather see her happy, even if he had to suffer the gloating for a few hours afterward.

Mor wiggled in his grip, and he set her down in his lap again, still holding onto her hands to prevent her from getting any ideas. “Scared, Az?” she teased as she began to tickle the inside of his palms with her manicured hands. He relented, letting them go.

“Of you? Always,” he jested, putting both hands up in anticipation of a surprise attack. Mor rolled her eyes. “We’ve had enough war to last us a few centuries, don’t you think?"

She only smirked at him again, shifting closer so that he had to tilt his head up to look her in the eye. To watch her. “You’re only saying that because you know this is a war you could lose."

“True."

“Come on, Az,” Mor sat back on her legs and ran a finger along his wrist, sending goosebumps up his arm. “I’ve never known you to turn down a challenge.” She snaked her hand the full length up his arm and just barely brushed the edge of his wing. He shivered. “There might even be a little prize, if you win."

Mor bit her bottom lip as Azriel closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, his pupils were blown and he stared at her with such a hunger that she knew she had won. “You’re a cruel woman, you know that right?"

She winked at him, and that was it. Azriel lunged at her and began to tickle her everywhere and anywhere, pinning her down beneath him on the couch. She shrieked, fighting her arms out from underneath him, and managed to get one free to find that spot on his back again.

In response, Azriel moved backward out of her grip, sliding his hands just under her shirt to tickle bare skin. She wiggled her legs nearly out from underneath him and bolted up, standing from the couch and running around the back of it to access his wings. Mor managed to send several sensitive jolts through them before he was rising from the couch himself. She took off running, giggling as her golden hair flew out behind her.

Azriel chased after her, catching her around the middle as they entered the kitchen of their townhouse, and spinning her until he had her pinned against the wall. She shrieked in protest, trying desperately to reach anything ticklish she could find, but failed. Before she could blink, Az had one hand on hers, pinned on the wall, and was poking her stomach with the other.

“Az!” Mor screeched, laughing hysterically, tears running down her face.

“Giving up, sunshine?” he teased, but before he got an answer, she was sliding out of his grip and running the opposite way, giggling fiercely.

Mor ran up the stairs two at a time, breathing heavily and powering through a painful stitch in her side, and quietly slipped into the hallway closet. She sat down and waited, listening for Azriel’s steps on the stairs, holding her breath so he wouldn’t hear her. Of course, Mor knew this was pointless and that he could smell her scent to know where she was hiding, but she hoped the fact that her scent was all over the house would mask it somewhat.

As she was listening, she was caught off guard when Azriel swung open the closet door and launched himself at her, cornering her and targeting her underneath her knees. She kicked at him, and he backed off. The pair looked at each other in a dangerous standoff, the only light from the faint glow of power coming off of Mor’s skin.

“I didn’t hear you coming up the stairs,” Mor panted, eying him up and down to track his movements.

“I flew."

Mor paused. “You flew? In the house?"

Azriel smirked at her. “You didn’t specify any rules."

She growled low in her throat and lunged at him, and Azriel sidestepped her attack. Luckily, she’d sparred with him enough times to predict that move, and she moved with him to the left and collided directly into his muscular body, her hands immediately finding his wings. When he closed his eyes and leaned into that touch, snaking his arms around her to grab her ass, she snorted.

“I didn’t say you won with that maneuver, did I? No prize yet.” Mor scolded him, their faces close enough to share breath.

Azriel only laughed and resumed his hands roaming. “Like I said, you didn’t specify any rules.” One hand began to rub gentle, ticklish circles over her back and the other snaked just below the waistband of her pants, and Mor shivered, leaning into the touch and fluttering her eyes closed.

He stole a gentle kiss then, and Mor pressed closer to him, her chest flush with his. Her hands continued to brush along his wings, and he deepened this kiss, to which she responded enthusiastically. Mor opened her mouth, Azriel’s tongue diving in, letting her know exactly what he would do with it elsewhere when he collected on his prize. She groaned as he lifted her up and spun her around, pressing her into the door of the closet as she wrapped her legs around his middle.

Giving one wing a brief reprieve, Mor ran a hand through Azriel’s silky hair, pressing closer to him, fusing them together in a desperate need for _more, more, more_. He ran his hands up and down her sides, one snaking under her shirt, up, up, up, while the other moved under her leg, toward the apex of her thighs, brushing just over sensitive skin-

And Mor whipped her head back, shrieking his name, as he began to tickle her again, catching her completely off-guard. He had her totally pinned, unable to twist out of his grip and unable to even remove her legs from around his waist with the way he held her. He laughed as he attacked her legs, her bare stomach and back, and Mor thrashed in his grip to try and escape. There was no hope. She was already burning from the kiss, from the build-up in her core, and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Truce!” she screamed, and Azriel immediately stopped, his face contorted into the most satisfied male smile she had ever seen on him. “Truce, okay, you win."

He chuckled. “Thought so. Can I collect that prize now?"

Mor shoved him gently in the chest, simultaneously shifting on his waist and grinding up against the damning evidence of just how ready he was for that prize. “I’d say you’re in a fine position to collect,” she looked at him pointedly.

“If you want to rut in a closet like crazed teenagers,” he teased, but his eyes darkened.

Mor leaned in to kiss his neck. “No rules, remember?"

Azriel didn’t argue with her point, and Mor was entirely pleased to stay right where she was, in Azriel’s arms.

In the end, she didn’t let him win completely. Not when his wings were so readily accessible. Azriel didn’t mind in the least.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote too much Moriel angst today and this is what happened as a result.
> 
> ...oops


End file.
